Page 21 of Saving Grace

“Where did you need to go?” he asks, gaze shifting over me. For the first time, his words aren’t harsh. No order or a rebuttal.

It catches me off guard a little and I chew my bottom lip, glancing up and down the street. I need the grocery store. The pharmacy. Maybe the craft shop...

“Groceries first.”

He waves a hand to my left, and we walk down the street, past the shops of Lewistown. Past an Italian restaurant, Mama’s Place. A gift and craft shop sits across the street, and a convenience store one block down. As we walk, people smile, some say hello. A guy around Mackinlay’s age in scrubs walks past, blond hair and pale blue eyes that widen as he forces a smile. “Rawlins, you back already?”

“Morley,” Mackinlay grunts, not slowing down.

What the hell was that about?

We cross the street, and an older lady walks up to us, arms open, her smile topped with tearful eyes. “Mackinlay! Yourmama told us you were back. Thank heavens you came home to us in one piece, sweet boy.” She pats his face. It goes from pleasant to devastation. His jaw feathers and I steal the older lady’s attention to let him catch a breath.

“Hi! I’m Grace.” I hold out my hand.

“Oh, hon, are you his girlfriend?” Her eyes widen some more but delight floods in a second later.

I laugh and shake my head. “No, I’m the help.”

She pats my hand now and glances to Mackinlay. “Well, young man, you make sure your help is looked after, you hear.”

He nods, and I can tell he wants to roll his eyes at her. I tamp down a smile and say goodbyes for the both of us and take off toward the store.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

“Sure,” I breathe. He stares at me as we amble down the sidewalk. I can see the war in his eyes over his visceral reaction to this whole situation and the man that exists under all the hurt. I know what it looks like. It stared back at me in the rearview mirror for days. It still does, when my guard comes down.

We do a quick round collecting groceries and leave with half a cart of fruit, veggies, and meat. A few snacks for me. On the way back down the street, we pass the craft shop. I peer through the window, hands holding the cart as I push it in front of me. My companion is getting tired, I can tell by his now sloppy gait. Time to go home.

“You want to go in?” he asks, nodding to the craft shop.

“No, we should get back.”

He walks on without a word, leaving me behind. Guess my quota of reasonable Mackinlay just ran out. Back at the car, he leans on Blue as I unlock the car and load the groceries. When passenger and purchases are all secure, I start up Blue and head for the town limits. Halfway down the highway, andthirty minutes into our drive home, he turns to me with a scowl. “Didn’t wind up lost once.”

“Surprising, did last time,” I lie.

“No, you didn’t. Next time you want company, phone a friend.”

I glance at him with annoyance twisting my face, mouth gaping.Ass!

“Couldn’t be any worse than spending hours with you.”

And like that, we are back to square one. Him, angry and taking it out on me. Me, giving it back, when it’s the last thing I want to do. It’s not what either of us need right now. But I can’t seem to override the mean bone he brings out in me.

My phone pings. I ignore it.

Forty minutes and a trillion annoyed thoughts that I keep to myself later, we pull into the driveway of the ranch, and he’s out of the car like it’s on fire. He wobbles his way back inside on the crutches. I sigh, letting my forehead meet the steering wheel. It’s going to be a long few months.

Despite all that lies between us—the ocean of hurt and trauma, and the eggshells I constantly dance on—I feel safe here. I feel grounded. For the first time in my life, I have purpose and money of my own. Nope, he can throw whatever he needs to at me. I’m not going to give in and break. Not going to throw the towel in and leave. I need this job, as much as he needs an attitude adjustment.

My phone rings, vibrating in my bag. I pull it out and answer.

“Grace, how’s things going?” Louisa asks.

“Hi, Mrs. Rawlins. Things are going, ah... well, they’re?—”

Her laugh cuts me off. “Oh, hon, I am fully aware of the moods my son goes through. He will come out the other side of this, I promise you. Hang in there. He needs you. Stubborn ass will never admit it. But his dark needs your light, if you catch my drift?”

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